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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719918">i've met someone that makes me feel seasick</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/akhikosanada/pseuds/akhikosanada'>akhikosanada</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>chimie physique [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, English Teacher!Sylvain, M/M, PE Teacher!Felix, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), felix is so horny god, no plot head empty, this is a snippet part of a bigger AU so im allowed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:07:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,362</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719918</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/akhikosanada/pseuds/akhikosanada</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hi, <em>Mr. Fraldarius</em>,” Sylvain-<em>fucking</em>-Gautier murmurs into his ear, playful and teasing, sussurating the<em> s</em>-es like a challenge, and Felix starts so hard he almost slaps him in the face."</p>
<p>As a new teacher, Felix obviously does not know how the copy machine works. Sylvain offers his help.<br/>Written for Sylvix Week 2020, Day 7 - Workplace AU</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>chimie physique [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>220</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i've met someone that makes me feel seasick</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/priin/gifts">priin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is part of an art/fic trade for @qiliin, for whom I'm going to write a teachers AU!! This is only a snippet part of a longer work/fic, which will be coming very soon :3<br/>Thank you so much for your trust Lin - I hope you'll like the final project!</p>
<p>This is a late submission for Sylvix Week day 7!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room smells of black coffee and rainy afternoons and freshly-printed paper, and the clock strikes three-thirty when Felix realizes he doesn’t know how the copy machine works.</p>
<p>The bustle of September and the start of the school year has settled down to a steady simmer; the teacher’s room now sees only sparse activity on Tuesdays past lunchtime, for none of his coworkers wishes to spend their early Fall evenings at school if they can help it, the declining daylight and the flush of cold, humid weather urging people back home before tiredness sinks too far into their bones.</p>
<p>None, it seems, but Sylvain Gautier.</p>
<p>Sylvain Gautier, who dares use the room for its intended purpose, looking positively indecent in a white shirt half-opened over the crux of his chest, its sleeves folded in neat cuffs around too-toned biceps as though the temperatures haven’t dropped below the comfortable limit of fifteen degrees already. Felix can see him through the glass window of the tiny copy room, seated at a table with wads of paper laid about in impeccable, equidistant piles, the steam wisping from his coffee cup fogging up the glasses perched on the perfect line of his nose. Luckily -- unluckily, a part of him that he wishes would shut up whispers -- he does not seem to care about Felix’s technology-induced plight: one of his fingers toys with a wild curl of his hair as he looks down to the paper he’s currently grading, scratching away at words and into margins until he adds his own touch of crisp ink to the rest of the scents that linger in the room. His incisors close over his lower lip like closing over a knot of thoughts. Felix pictures his own teeth biting down instead.</p>
<p>Since Felix prides himself on his relative self-control, he directs his gaze down to the array of colorful buttons instead, trying to decipher whether the teal-green square means he’ll finally manage to scan his students’ physical evaluation sheets or if he’ll have to -- Goddess help him -- type them all himself by hand into a crude excel sheet to be analyzed in the comfort of his own living room. He’s distracted in a way he hasn’t been in a long time -- though he guesses suddenly meeting a long-lost childhood friend as one of the English teachers in the school where he's substitute-teaching P.E. for the year does that to people. His mind wanders back to the teachers’ welcome party a few weeks back, when he’d got so drunk he hadn’t realized the Sylvain Gautier he was miserably trying to flirt with was the same Sylvain Gautier whom he’d spent dozens of embarrassing childhood nights crying over like he was dead and not just gone on the other side of the world. Sylvain himself had noticed, the fucker, had told him a bit later as though they were merely discussing the weather, probably out of pity for the horny fool Felix was making of himself for his first day in a new, unknown environment.</p>
<p>“Hi, <em>Mr. Fraldarius</em>,” Sylvain-<em>fucking</em>-Gautier murmurs into his ear, playful and teasing, sussurating the<em> s</em>-es like a challenge, and Felix starts so hard he almost slaps him in the face as he whirls on him. “Fuck, sorry--” Sylvain says, his eyes widening to pretty tourmalines, hands raised in apology, “didn’t mean to scare you.”</p>
<p>“I fail to guess what you actually <em>meant </em>to do here, Sylvain.”</p>
<p>He raises a flawless eyebrow, his smile crooked in the exact way that makes Felix want to climb him like the trees they chop down for the metric tons of paper they use on the daily. “You did know I was here, right? I even said <em>hello</em> when you walked in earlier, looking like a storm cloud.”</p>
<p>Felix lets out a sigh he hopes doesn’t sound too tired. “I have stuff to scan.”</p>
<p>“Let me guess. You don’t know how the machine works.”</p>
<p>Felix huffs. “In my defense, I’ve been here for a month.”</p>
<p>Sylvain’s smirk is keen like the edge of a knife. “In your defense, you’re a P.E. teacher. Don’t worry, though -- no one is tech-savvy when it comes to this baby.” He slaps the edge of the copy machine as though it’s a luxury car and not an old, fuming mass of screws and wires non-working in mysterious ways.</p>
<p>It makes Felix snort, despite himself. Sylvain had always been good at making him laugh, all those years ago. Sylvain pries the stack of paper from Felix’s hands with long, deft fingers, winks as he tells Felix he’s going to do it for him, and Sylvain’s explanations fly in wild circles in-and-out of his brain as Felix remembers all the stupid office romcoms Ashe has ever made him watch and pictures himself pushing Sylvain right against the copy machine and kissing him stupid. He wonders how it would feel -- how it would have felt, had Sylvain let him, that first night: he imagines the texture of Sylvain’s hair through the gaps between his fingers and under his nails as he’d pull on it; the taste of Sylvain’s tongue as it’d spill all over him like whiskey-on-ice and dark secrets; the tone of Sylvain’s voice along the veins of his throat and the edge of his mind, fuzzy like an overplayed, treasured cassette tape.</p>
<p>“And done,” Sylvain suddenly says with a flourish of his hand, the USB key dangling by the keyring from the tip of his finger; he’s blessedly oblivious to the mental turmoil and emotional acrobatics inside Felix’s brain. “Also, I was thinking--” he adds, his voice trailing on the syllables in conspiracy. “Since we’re both here, mind if we start on our joint project?”</p>
<p>Felix raises an eyebrow, arms crossed in front of his chest, the reassuring touch of his fencing gloves along his skin easing him into uncharted territory as they step back into the main room. He lifts a random copy from Sylvain’s table when they reach it, the handwriting awful enough to give even Felix a headache. “Aren’t you grading essays, or whatever?”</p>
<p>Sylvain stretches his arms to the ceiling, his shirt untucking a little more from his suit pants. “Why, do you wanna help?”</p>
<p><em>I’d be perfectly content watching you grading papers for the rest of the day</em>, Felix thinks, and it almost slips out of his betraying mouth. “I’m not good at English,” is what he says instead.</p>
<p>Sylvain huffs in laughter, too loud for comfort, the scrape of chair on floorboards as Sylvain pulls it and sits quiet like the gaze he levels Felix with. “I’m sure you’re at least decent.”</p>
<p>Felix can feel a flush rise over his cheekbones. The rain keeps drumming against the window, the sound a rhythmic accompaniment to the beating of Felix’s heart as he stares at Sylvain. Felix’s fingers reach for Sylvain’s coffee cup, fiddle with the handle, brush against the print -- <em>MOST CHARISMATIC TEACHER (after Mr. Von Riegan)</em> -- as he turns it around and away. “I have an awful accent.”</p>
<p>“Want me to teach you?” Sylvain asks, his voice a low contralto as he leans closer to Felix, dark eyes boring into Felix’s when he looks up at him through too-long eyelashes. There’s a sparkle there, a hint of mischief Felix wants to follow, but the noise of the school bell reminds him exactly where they are -- not the far side of the reception room the night of the party, not the street where he was almost pressed into Sylvain’s side as Sylvain walked him home, almost as intoxicating as the drinks he’d had; not in the hallway where Sylvain had pressed what Felix had dreamt as a kiss into Felix’s hair when he’d whispered good night on his doorstep, leaving Felix alone and desperately lonely after the party.</p>
<p>“Maybe later,” Felix says as he rises from the table. His fingers brush against Sylvain’s as he takes the USB key in his hand. He lets his hand skim over Sylvain’s shoulders before he reaches for the pile of paper Sylvain had scanned for him, throws him one last glance before he steps out of the room. “See you after class.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading this silly snippet!! Tell me if you'd want to see more of this AU :D</p>
<p>Title song is Kill The Director by The Wombats!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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